


Be Mine

by midearthwritings



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Courtship, Dwarf Courting, Dwarf/Hobbit Relationship(s), F/M, First Love, Flowers, Fluff, Helpful Bilbo Baggins, Hobbit Courting, M/M, Oblivious Dwarves, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29442513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midearthwritings/pseuds/midearthwritings
Summary: A flower, for he must know your heart belongs to him.
Relationships: Dwalin (Tolkien)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Be Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr (@midearthwritings).  
> A little Valentine's Day special because I'm soft for Dwalin and Hobbit Reader. Sorry not Sorry (At all).

Cradled in your hands, the fragile flower was lying comfortably, waiting for you to finally make your move. Its red petals were big and bright, free of any damage the weather or wild animals could have caused. They were staring back at you, reassuringly. You could almost hear them whisper soothing words. Carefully, you brought it to your face and inhaled the lovely smell, black pistils tickling your nose. It wasn't as beautiful as the ones you grew, back home. And if you had been in the Shire, you would have gathered a big bouquet. But you were not in the Shire, you were on the road, probably walking to your ultimate death. And there wasn't any garden, only wilderness. So this single wild tulip would have to do.

Before, this day had meant nothing. It had been an excuse for those who where merely interested in you to gift you with bouquets. And each time, they had been met with rejection. Until now, the only love you had ever felt had been for your friends and your garden. Back in the comfort of your Hobbit hole, only the Sun rising each morning had been able to make your heartbeat quicken. 

Now, it was different. The feelings had taken you by surprise, and for long you had refused to acknowledge them. But when you were traveling with the one your heart so desired, and had to see him at every moment given, it was hard to stay in denial.

The flower was still there, reminder that you were to gift it to him.

_But how?_

You turned around, looking at him from your spot. Even doing something as simple as packing his belongings, he looked so very intimidating. Centuries separated the two of you. He had seen war, disasters. He knew of sorrow and death. As for you, well, a piece of pottery you really liked fell to the floor, once, it had made you sad. Compared to him, you were just a simple Hobbit from the Shire that everybody would forget about after they passed. 

You sighed and your eyes dropped back on the tulip. Gently, you brushed the pad of your thumb against a petal. It was soft under your touch. Like an infant's skin. 

"What is it that ye have there?"

Startled, you jumped—quite harshly—, sending the flower to the ground. With an annoyed squeal, you picked it up and blew on it a little to get rid of any dust or dirt that had found its place on the poor vegetal. You stood up, facing the dwarf. 

From afar, he had been intimidating, but here, right in front of you it was worse. His tall frame, taller than the others, swallowed you up whole. His insistent gaze was piercing right through your soul and you felt your blood rushing to your face. 

Perhaps, now was your only chance. The company would have to depart soon and you wouldn't stop until night. The pounding in your chest was echoing in your entire body. 

With one last glance at the delicate little thing, you held your hands out to him.

"It is, ah, it is a flower." You stuttered, looking anywhere but at him. " It is a flower for, for you."

Maybe you had spoken louder than you intended to, because you were surrounded with silence. To make it even worse, you knew all eyes were on you, as if you were some sort of strange creature no one had ever seen before. Actually, you were, given the fact that most of them had never met a Hobbit before. But that was not the point now, was it?

Brush of rough fingers against yours made you look back up and you watched, embarrassed, as the soldier took the flower away from your grip. His eyes were glued to the tiny looking plant in his hand, and his eyebrow rose up slowly. 

"A flower?" He asked, his eyes meeting yours again. "For me?"

Another shy squeal escaped your lips, and you nodded rapidly. 

"What d'ye want me to do with it?"

The words were like a punch right in the stomach. It had taken you time to pick the prettiest out of the lot. You had chosen it with care and love. Did he not like it? If the feelings were not returned, why would he take it? To publicly humiliate you, or something like that?

Defeated, your shrugged your shoulders and brought your hand to your lips. A bad habit of yours when you were feeling down, and today was no exception. You began to chew on your thumb before having your hand batted away.

"Don't do that. Ye'll make yerself bleed."

You muttered a quiet apology. Dwalin shook his head and placed the flower in one of his pockets, on his chest. He patted the place and you frowned. Now this was unusual. In the Shire, if one didn't return another's feeling, they wouldn't take the gift. They would politely reject the offer and move on. And hadn't the dwarf just rejected you? 

"Pack yer things, Halfling, we're leavin soon."

And with that, he walked away, leaving you alone and confused.

That day, the weather was on the company's good side. The Sun was clement, so was the wind. You were walking in the front, alongside of Thorin's nephews, unaware that you were being watched. You hadn't been the only one left tormented with the events of the morning. All the way in the back of the line, Dwalin was lost in his thoughts, the flower still secured in his pocket. His mind was filled with questions, such as why you would gift him with a thing as useless as this one. At the broken look on your face when he had asked, he hadn't been able to find the strength to refuse. And so, the soldier was now traveling with a flower stuck in his clothing. 

Carefully, he approached the only one who he thought would be able to help him out.

"Burglar."

The same way you had this morning, Bilbo jumped, startled by Dwalin's deep voice. His hand found its way up to his chest, resting in the place of his heart.

"Master Dwalin, you have to stop creeping behind people like that. One of this days, someone's heart will stop beating." 

Sensitive Hobbits. So easily scared. The dwarf was still wondering why the wizard had brought the both of you along. A poor excuse of a burglar and you. But he was in no place to question the decision. And so, he got along with it. 

Carefully, to avoid damaging it, he grabbed the flower and showed it to the Hobbit. The latter frowned and held his hands up.

"Ah..." He began, his cheeks reddening. "I am very flattered but, ah well, how to say that? The feeling is not returned."

The burglar's nonsense made Dwalin shake his head. It was terrifying the quantity of absurdities Hobbits mouths could produce.

"What are ye sayin burglar? Yer little friend up there..." He explained, pointing at you. "Yer little friend up there gave me this. Why?"

Bilbo's eyes followed the direction of the Dwarf's fingers and his eyes met yours. He watched as you quickly looked away. A smile grew on his lips, illuminating his face. Now, this was very interesting. A merry event, indeed. A strange choice, he thought. But well, it was not his place to say anything. In all those years of friendship, he had had to watch you refuse gift after gift, bouquets after bouquets. Love wasn't made for you, you only loved your friends. Or so you had said. He snickered, rather loudly.

His face radiating with a joy that made the dwarf uncomfortable, he explained :

"Well, Master Dwalin, it is a tulip. Oh, those we grow in the Shire are so much prettier. But I find this one to be very beautiful, very well chosen. I must say a bouquet of this specie would look very lovely and I would-"

"Will ye tell me why or not?"

Bilbo nodded at the soldier's interruption of his rambling.

"Once a year, Hobbits give flowers to those dear to them. It is a day to honour the ones we have wed, or confess our feelings. And tulips, Master Dwalin, in the language of flowers, mean the first confession of love."

Intriguing creatures. But not an unexpected gesture, coming from them. Dwalin looked down at the small plant. It didn't look the same. It was softer, like you. Its scent reached the Dwarf's nose. He hadn't been there for long but he could remember the essence that had floated in your home. And it smelled like it, like your home. It reminded him of you in every way, no matter which angle he looked at it. Now, he could see.

"I need yer help some more, burglar."

The night wasn't particularly scary to you. It was something peaceful, even. And night was often the time of grand parties amongst Hobbits. Yet, far from everything you knew, it wasn't comforting either. Silently, you sat on your bedroll, far from the fire. 

You sighed. Sometimes, you felt very lonely. You missed your friends dearly. Oh yes, you were happy that Bilbo was there with you. It made things a bit easier to go through. But it was not the same. 

The tulip was still haunting your thoughts. Bright, beautiful and proud, living its best life in your beloved's garment. It had been mocking you all day long, the vivid color reminding you of the answer you were not given. Or rather the upsetting one he had served you. Childishly, you kicked at the ground and crossed your arms on your chest. It was unfair. 

You froze, when a big hand was laid on top of your head. 

"Ye seem mad, Halfling."

At the familiar voice, you relaxed. Although there was still tension in your shoulders. It seemed Fate wasn't done with you and wanted to torture you a little more. 

You shook your head, chasing the hand away.

"That, I am not. Anger makes you stupid, and stupid gets you killed."

His laughter, loud and deep, pulled a little smile out of you. You stayed still as he sat down to your side.

"This is very well said. Yer startin to think like a real warrior."

At his compliment, your heart swell, and your body threatened to burst out with pride. In the corner of your eye, you could see the red glint of the petals, and the feeling died down. You wanted to rip it out of here, throw it on the ground and step on it the same way it had stepped on your love. But at the same time, you wished it would live timelessly for the dwarf to keep and cherish.

You sighed, for the hundredth time, when a folded piece of fabric came into your sight, making you flinch a little. Curious, you inspected it. It was simple, and you were certain it had been ripped from a clothing. The bumps told you there was something inside. 

You looked up at your friend.

"What is it?" 

"Take it. For ye." He replied, pushing it closer to you.

Hesitantly, you obeyed. With a swift of his hand, he ordered you to take a look inside.

Slowly, you unfolded it, revealing what it contained. The small branche decorated with dozens of tiny purple flowers caught your eyes first. It was radiant, and you couldn't believe he had managed to find some in the little time that had been given to him. You smiled, bringing it up to your face to inhale the sweet perfume. 

Putting it back down, you noticed there was something else. A tiny piece of steel with a hole in it. It was engraved, the patterns really clear and neatly made. 

"Yer burglar friend said Hobbits court each others with flowers." He explained, pointing at the plant. "Us, dwarves, we court with clasps we braid into our partner's hair."

Your head shot up. There was no hint of mockery on his face. You had offered him your heart, and he was now offering you his.

"Master Dwalin I-"

"Now, will ye deny me?" 

You shook your head. That, you would not do. For sure. If it was no jokes, and it didn't look like one, you would not be as foolish as to deny a thing you had hoped for. 

Delicately, you picked the small piece of hair ornament and handed it to your soldier, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

"Will you braid my hair, then?"

And so he did, working his strong fingers through your mane gently, while you cradled his other gift close to your heart. 

_Lilac, for the first feeling of love._


End file.
